


Betrayals

by The_trash_cannot



Series: The Masks of Mairon [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Betrayal, Body Horror, Evil gays who care about each other as the world ends, Implied Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Narvi, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mairon takes his problems out on everyone and I mean everyone, Mutilation, This came out more shippy than intended, Torture, silvergifting, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 09:11:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18825616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_trash_cannot/pseuds/The_trash_cannot
Summary: The story of Annatar and Celebrimbor, and the forging of the Rings of Power. A tragedy in 3 acts, as it were.





	Betrayals

_“Mairon, go. I’ll not be responsible for thy death.”_

_“I’ll not leave thee, Master!”_

_“I command thee, Mairon. Go!”_

_The gates of Angband burst open with an awful roar. White light erupted from the mangled iron, burning his eyes and blistering his skin. Mairon pulled a knife from his belt, preparing to throw himself at the light. If they would take his lord and master, it would not be while he lived.  Just as the warcry tore from his throat, he heard a sorrowful voice from behind him._

_“Forgive me, my smith.”_

_Cool darkness enveloped him, shielding him from the scorching light. The silvery voice of_ _Eönwë rang out._

_“Dark Foe of the World, Destroyer, Defiler, in the name of my king Manwë, thy reckoning is at hand!”_

_Mairon only had time to see Eönwë’s sword, the sword he himself had made for his once-friend so long ago, peirce the chest of his love and master. Then the darkness cut out the world, and he had only the sensation of moving._

_Mairon woke alone in a desolate wasteland, and wept._

 

…………………………………..

 

“Annatar?”

The ringing of hammer against anvil stopped. Celebrimbor stalled in the door as Annatar’s strange golden eyes took him up and down.

“Yes?” The hammer made a soft _ting_ as Annatar set it down, allowing his fingers to lightly rest upon its handle.

“I…” Celebrimbor’s mouth suddenly dried in the heat of the forge, though Annatar was seemingly unaffected.

“Is something wrong?” He took a few fluid strides forward.

“Well, no.” Celebrimbor steeled his thoughts. “I simply wondered if we could speak.”

Annatar nodded absentmindedly and turned back to his work. “Tonight.”

When the time came, Celebrimbor had dressed in his finest robes, telling himself it was because they were the only ones not smudged with soot and not because he knew Annatar would appreciate the gold filaments sewn in.

He found Annatar on a secluded balcony where they both frequently sought respite from the clamour of the forge. For not the first time, he was taken by Annatar’s beauty. His hair fell below his waist and was spun of pure gold, the same gold of his large eyes, calculating and distant, yet inviting. Like the stars, Celebrimbor thought. Yes, Annatar was very beautiful, golden hair and pale skin contrasting Celebrimbor’s own dark tresses and bronze skin.

“Annatar, I…” Yet again his voice abandoned him, as it so often did around the Maia.

“Come. Sit.” Annatar beckoned him forward and lowered himself to the ground with catlike grace. Celebrimbor joined him, still uncertain of what he wanted to say.

”Annatar, I wondered… Why are you here?”

“I was sent by the Valar to reward you with knowledge, after your great victory over the enemy.” He gritted his teeth. _Enemy._ The _Valar_ were the enemy, damn them. Had they obeyed the terms of their self-imposed isolation, he and Melkor could have made the world anew, in Melkor’s music.

“I know that, I meant why me? You know who I am, you must know of the crimes my family have committed against the Valar.” Annatar almost smiled. _Such glorious crimes!_ “Why then would you choose me. I’m not doubting your wisdom! But why?”

A devious smile crept through Annatar’s mind, though he kept it from his face. “The Noldor were always the favored of Aulë, the most gifted in crafting. I have seen that gift embodied in you, smith of Eregion.”

Celebrimbor felt himself flush at the flattery.

“Beyond that, there is something else I see in you,” Annatar continued. “Something I can’t explain. But it draws me to you, beyond the task I was assigned.” The trap was set, and all that was needed was for him to take the bait.

“I… Have felt it as well.” Celebrimbor hesitated for a moment. “And I fear that I grow jealous of your Maia brethren, who may always have gazed upon you.”

Annatar leaned closer. Celebrimbor fleetingly thought of the brief times he had spent with his friend Narvi, but all thoughts were lost when Annatar closed the space between them and pressed his lips to his.

Deftly, Annatar began to run his fingers over the delicate gold embroidery on the edges of Celebrimbor’s tunic, reaching for the buttons as he gently pushed Celebrimbor to the ground under him.

 

…………………………………..

 

The orcs held Celebrimbor’s shoulders to keep him to his knees, though it was doubtful he could have escaped, as tightly bound as his hands were. His eyes were fixed on the ground, still wondering how the orcs could have made it past all of his defenses (They had all felt the flood of evil, why hadn’t Annatar been there?) when a pair of boots stepped into his view.

His gaze followed the boots up, tracing over a shapely figure dressed in black and a flow of golden hair.

“Annatar,” He whispered, trying not to let the cry in his heart escape from his lips.

The figure chuckled, bending and grabbing his chin with sharply pointed nails that drew small beads of blood. They were so close that Celebrimbor could have kissed Annatar as he had done so many times before. “Dear Celebrimbor,” His voice was dripping with honey and venom. “It’s _Mairon_ , as I’m surprised you haven’t figured out before.” He was on his knees too, now, and ran his slightly bloodied hand down from Celebrimbor’s chin to around his neck.

Celebrimbor watched as he pulled a knife from the belt of his black tunic. It was then that Celebrimbor noticed one change about Annatar. The pupils of his golden eyes were now a fiery blood red.

Mairon tightened his hand around Celebrimbor’s throat. The latter shut his eyes tightly as the knife was dragged slowly along the outlines of his cheekbones.

“Listen, dear Celebrimbor.” Another long slice. “You know I will find those Rings.” A cut under each eye. “I already have most of them. Just tell me where you put those other three. You’ll save their holders so much agony.” The tip of the knife trailed out from the points of his eyes. He didn’t open them; he couldn’t face the reality that this was his Annatar, his Lord of Gifts. “Pity I can’t say the same for you.”

White-hot pain burst through the side of his head. Celebrimbor’s eyes shot open as his mouth opened in a silent scream as Mairon carved jagged lines into the point of his ear.

“You look quite nice like this,” Mairon mused, flicking his finger against the wounded ear. “Tell me where the Rings are, or I’ll do the other one too.”

Celebrimbor took several deep, gasping breaths. Clenching his fists, all but numb under the bonds, he mustered the energy to spit in Mairon’s face. Mairon quickly rose to his feet and delivered a sharp kick to Celebrimbor’s chest, releasing him from the orcs who quickly fled from their master’s rage. Mairon leaned over Celebrimbor, allowing his hair to fall in flaxen curtains.

Mairon looked deathly calm as he flicked the knife again, taking the point of Celebrimbor’s other ear off. The smith screamed in pain, writhing as Mairon pulled open his tunic and pulled the knife along his chest, carving in fluid strokes the words that shone brightly on the band around his finger.

Celebrimbor’s screams filled the hall,  punctuated by Mairon’s questions. The Rings, always about the Rings. The 16 he had recovered had already been delivered to different realms, as Annatar’s tokens of goodwill. But those 3 enraged and eluded him.

Hours later, the screaming went suddenly silent. When Mairon emerged from the hall, Celebrimbor’s body could be seen behind him, warped almost beyond recognition, and trussed to a pole with arms stretched out. A crude spear piercing his body held him in place, a last few drops of blood weeping from the freshest wounds.

Scattered on the floor were the fingers which had crafted the Rings for which Mairon searched.

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I'm just writing a lot of Mairon one-shots recently? (And totally not procrastinating writing my other book haha). Anyways, If you like this I have other stories similar to this on my profile.


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